The Sapling or the Axe
The Crusade of the Gods had left Warden’s Gate some time ago, though Illiv did not yet long for home. His calling was more realized than it ever had been; to not only be serving the Seven, but struggling with them through frozen wastes in the flesh. And yet, he had questions. It was well after sunset when Illiv roused from his bunk. Sleep evaded him, despite the furs lining his cot to keep him warm from the blizzard outside. He dressed meagerly and quickly, donning weapons as well as his cloak as he had done countless times before. He opened the tent to see the flicker of torchlight combatting the darkness of Rhivic. Guards, their ways lit by oil and fire, patrolled the grounds of the Crusaders camp for signs of orc, beast, or Northmen… or worse. At the center of the camp was Lidiya and Bainaur’s lodge, the largest abode in the Crusade. He pulled his clothing tight against his lithe frame and, for the first time in a long while, wished he had eaten more back in Lancerus. One foot in front of the other, he crunched through the wet snow towards the center of the camp. Two guards stopped him as he approached Lidiya’s tent. They bore thick fur pelts and cracked, red faces from the cold. “May I speak to the Godvessel?” Illiv said, his voice unshaken by the biting wind. The burly man on Illiv’s right shook his head. “She is in commune with Bainaur at this time and is not to be disturbed.” The tent flap billowed open at the behest of another man, his face warm and a hand outstretched. “It’s quite alright, boys,” Nex said, “Illiv has been summoned.” The tent seemed even larger on the inside and, despite the blackened sky and billowing wind without, was comfortably warm. No fire was lit within the canvas walls, and it only took a moment for Illiv to recall that Bainaur himself was a source of strong warmth. “Come,” Belain said, “sit.” Through another set of flaps was Illiv led before trying to avert his stare; two Godvessels, Lidiya and Bainaur, sat upon a series of animal pelts and pillows. “I wonder,” Illiv began, “that I may have not thought this through. My deepest apologies,” he turned to leave. Nex grabbed him by the shoulder and led his eyes back to the Gods. “Oh,” Illiv said, losing his ability to control his emotion... if only for a moment. Lidiya and Bainaur sat motionless facing one another, their eyes closed and foreheads touching. The young girl, who was not so young any longer, had guided her hands to the jawline of the Divine Deer and lovingly pressed his frame against hers. “My lieges, I,” Illiv began. Lidiya outstretched her ivory fingers towards Illiv, though her demeanor did not waver. She beckoned for him. Illiv looked to Nex, who merely shrugged. Illiv approached, the heat from Bainaur now palpable in his mouth. Almost instinctively, he reached for her hand and sat down. Normally, he would have been abhorred of the idea of sitting so casually next to beings so divine. He was calm. Lidiya guided his head towards theirs and, careful to avoid Bainaur’s small antlers, joined his face to theirs. Wind, a drip of cool water on a warm pond. Crickets, the songs of loons and sparrows. Grass, leaves, trees. Illiv opened his eyes. A lush, green garden filled his senses. The scent of early summer flowers rushed into his nose. The trees seemed to glow. “What is this place?” He asked, only now noticing that his attire had changed to splendid, yet simple, garments. He only sensed that he was now alone in the clearing. Without his swords he felt a twinge of panic. Or, rather, he should have felt a twinge of panic. Still, he was calm. “Illiv,” came the voice of a man from behind, though as if spoken through a veil of golden glass. He turned to see something he never thought a mortal could see, or even comprehend. He fell to his knees and prostrated himself, his eyes fighting tears. No deer stood before him, for it was not Bainaur that Illiv had seen. Kalyar, the God of Life, the eldest of the Seven and keeper of the Fire of Creation, burned like a radiant star. “Please, my son,” Kalyar said, “rise. I did not bring you here for you to grovel.” Illiv did as was commanded of him, yet his eyes still averted the God. There was a long draught of movement, neither man nor God speaking above the sound of songbirds. Illiv, curious as to the delay, brought his eyes to Kalyar’s. The God of Life merely smiled. “Are you done?” Kalyar asked. “Come. I know you have questions, so let us speak.” Kalyar walked into the woods; Illiv followed. From behind, Kalyar was everything Illiv had ever been told he would be, at least physically. Taller than any living man or Elf, glowing verdant skin, hair like the sun, all topped with the crown of antlers he was so well distinguished with in the monastic books of Lancerus. Illiv had always thought them a theological artistic flair. Decidedly not. “What is this place?” Illiv said, touching the trim of foliage that hugged the path. He expected the facade to fade at even the slightest touch. Everything felt real, sounded real, smelled real. “Did we travel through the Wraith Realm?” “I suppose you could call this my mind,” Kalyar said, “though that’s not quite the whole truth. It’s a portion of my true self, a sliver locked away inside of Bainaur. I brought you here to talk, as deer do not have vocal cords and therefore cannot speak.” “I am aware.” Illiv replied. He was surprised at the dry wit that Kalyar seemed to share with him. Were all the Gods like this? They rounded a bend in the path before approaching a crystalline pond. At the bottom of the water was a ferocious inferno dancing beneath the calm surface. “Where is Lidiya, or rather, Unquala?” Illiv asked. Kalyar chuckled. “Am I not good enough? Ever the Vix. She’s around, worry you not. Though she wanted to give us some time to get to know each other a bit better.” “What do you know of me?” “More than most, but not all. I know you seek to aid in the reclamation of the Throne of Chains and restore it to Leva Núrnen. I also know you can eat a lot and not gain very much weight. But you’re on this voyage north for the former, clearly, and my little sister seems to trust you. Still, Unquala is more trusting than I am, so let me see what you really are.” “I am more than ready,” Illiv said. “I welcome any trial, be it death itself.” Kalyar laughed, “yes yes, ready to die as always. But, perhaps, I will ask you to be ready to live. That may be harder than the former for you, young human.” “What do you mean?” “You get one last question, Illiv Cell. I will answer one more question of yours before I ask one myself. So: choose wisely.” Illiv squinted against the weight of this thoughts. He sat, cross-legged, and allowed the grass to caress his legs. Clouds rolled, wind whispered in his ear, and some time passed before the Vix stood once more. “Who do you love?” Kalyar, who was now playing with a small dancing flame upon his fingers, raised an eyebrow curiously. “Specifically who?” “Yes.” “Had you said ‘what do you love’ I would have given you some perplexing vague statement about the nature of life itself… so you’ve made this a bit harder on me.” Kalyar stood, seemingly even taller than before, and gazed into the sky. “Before you or I existed, there was Yav. He was unique, infinitely valuable, and perfectly holy. And He knew this when He set about his creation. And He loved His perfection, and He treasured it because He’s wise and righteous, and a righteous person always values what is most valuable. Therefore, before Humanity or the Elves or the Vanessi, Yav valued Yav above all else. And then His children came, and I will tell you this: nothing changed. Yav was still the greatest above the First Vanessi, above myself and my kin, above Elves…” Illiv leaned on every word. Even the trees seemed to lean closer to listen. “There was the War of Stars. The First War, where son turned against Father and Vanessi against one another. After all things, myself and six of my brethren had become Yav’s Chosen. We each inherited a portion of Him; in a way, we became Him. And we were instructed to continue valuing one thing above all else: Yav’s perfect holiness.” Kalyar turned to Illiv now, his eyes alight with gentle crimson fire. “And yet, I surmise the very reason that Yav could not continue as the sole Power in our universe was because, from His creation, evil was sowed.” “You surmise?” Illiv asked. “Do you not know?” “You’re only allowed one question, Illiv,” Kalyar said with a smile. “I suppose it may be idolatry, as all of Ura is instructed to worship the Seven… but I do not worship me. And though Yav may have instructed me to do otherwise, I find I cannot help but not love Him and myself most in all the worlds. Who I love most, Illiv, is humanity. You.” “Not Elves?” “Imperfection is a natural facet of life, and who would know better than I? Humans are the most imperfect, torn apart by divine blood and a warring Dark Spirit within. But in this conflict, hope emerges. Yav’s redemption.” The forest parted before them, a sea of grass where once trees had stood. One, greater than all the rest, stood gray and unmoving in the distance. Not dead… but sleeping, if trees could sleep. Seven other trees, each with a different colored canopy, drew from the roots of the great sleeping tree. They, too, were beginning to fade. “Yav, the Vanessi, the Elves… we did not have a choice in the nature of our creation, the path our souls will take. But you do. You are given the choice between good and evil, not just every day, but the ultimate choice will be a human one. And should you choose good, by no edict or force other than your own, you will have gained a power that not even Yav could possess: to hold evil in your soul, but rebuke it for righteousness. That, Illiv Cell, is why I love you.” Illiv felt a weight in his hands, his fingers clenched around something that was not there before. He raised them: in his left was a sapling no larger than his finger, it’s roots clinging to wet dirt. In his right was an axe, sharper than any he had ever seen. It felt hungry. “I have chosen you, Illiv. Now, what will you choose?” The forest ignited in flames as the swirling fire burst from the pond. No sooner than Illiv could open his mouth to speak, his lungs had filled with ash. Kalyar erupted into a blazing inferno. He screamed. Illiv awoke. He found himself returned to his cot, his clothes folded neatly beside him and his body drenched in sweat. Category:World Lore